Blood, Love and Thieves
by Little.Maddie.Redhead
Summary: Sandor Clegane has no reason to stay in the Red Keep. When a new girl arrives, though, he might just have a reason to leave.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own anything, except for Mellina. I hope you guys enjoy this story, and any review or critique would be appreciated!

* * *

The air in the Red Keep was stifling as the heat of the long summer continued on. The bright sun flowed through the hallways many open windows, practically cooking all who were inside. The bodyguard shifted slightly, his skin wet with sweat felt like it was boiling under his heavy steel armor. He leaned against a pillar, bored at his post outside the door that contained the children of the royal family, and their vicious mother. They were hidden away from the day's heat, choosing to spend it in their coolest chamber instead. The eldest, Joffrey, was 14 at the time, and could be heard whining about staying indoors throughout the hall. He wanted to be outside making the fools fight for him, which was his favorite pastime.

 _Gods know it would be more interesting than this._ Sandor thought. Despite the heat, he would rather watch the entertainment the fools could provide. Or fight them himself.

He was interrupted from his thoughts of court jesters as someone ran around the corner, and straight into his side. His hand instinctively went to grab the arm of the stranger, holding tight at the possible threat. He looked down only to see a short girl looking up at him, her bright coppery hair curling, fighting its way out of her braid. She had a plain pale face, not necessarily ugly, but covered in dark freckles. She looked up at him in surprise, but he was curious to see that she didn't have the normal look of fear that is usually reserved for him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, a small smile spreading on her face as she tried to hold back laughter. She opened her mouth as if to say something else but was interrupted by shouting down the hallway.

"I think the bitch went this way!" yelled an angry woman's voice, footsteps growing louder down towards where the two stood. The redhead's eyes grew wide in fear.

"You never saw me!" she quietly hissed, the smile still on her face as she pointed a finger into Sandor's face. She then pushed him away from his place on the wall, shuffling behind him, pressing herself against the wall so she would be hidden behind the guard's cape. Sandor surprised himself as he willingly let the girl move him from his spot, and moved back, repositioning himself so that the girl would be hidden. Three girls then ran around the corner as well, stopping in their tracks at the sight of the Hound. The tallest, who appeared to be their leader, sneered at Sandor.

"Have you seen a girl run past here, _dog_?" She spat, emphasizing the insult. Sandor rolled his eyes at the young girl, who was too bold to know what's good for her.

"This castles full of fucking girls running about, which girl are you looking for?"

"Well, I didn't see who it was" the girl said indignantly, "but I saw her green skirts run around the corner after she stole my hand mirror."

"Well a blonde bitch just ran past," Sandor lied "maybe she has your precious mirror" he sneered. The girls took a step back in fear, before continuing down the hall away from the beast. He felt the redhead wiggle her way out of her hiding spot. A huge grin on her face, he surveyed her fully as she stood before him. She looked to about nineteen years of age, far too old to be pulling childish pranks. She wore an elegant green gown, a style suited only for the noble girls. Her blue eyes glittered in excitement as she looked at him.

"Thank you Ser!" she said breathlessly, her neck craning to see that the girls were out of sight.

"I'm not a Ser" he gruffly replied, trying to sound imposing in front of the stranger who looked at him too kindly.

"Well then thank you, Not-A-Ser" she mocked back at him. In a flash she threw an object at him, which he caught. She began walking backwards in the opposite direction as the other girls, she puffed up her chest to make fun of him further, threw an off balance salute, then turn around and ran away.

Sandor looked down into his hands to find a small hand mirror, the handle littered with small gemstones. He looked into the reflective surface only to see the dark roughened skin that made him a horror in King's Landing. But she didn't seem to even notice the scarring that took up half of his face, or if she did, she was the only one who had never stared at him in fear.

 _Who in the bloody hell was she?_ He pocketed the mirror, against his better judgement. He should have returned it to where it belonged, but instead he chose to take this as a souvenir. _God knows the rich bitch can afford to replace a bloody mirror._

The rest of his shift was spent in that hallway, secretly hoping to see the red haired girl again, but alas, she didn't walk past again. His thoughts were filled of her, though, as he was left to day dream. She was short, couldn't be much taller than five feet, which left her tiny in comparison to the Hound's tall stature. She had the curves of a woman, but smiled and acted like a child.

 _She had better be careful,_ he thought, trying to wave her image from his head, _those who are too different here get hurt._

* * *

It had been two weeks since Clegane's run in with the strange redhead, and he had yet to see her again. If it weren't for the small hand mirror he kept in his nightstand, he might've thought she had been a figment of his imagination. Yet there it sat, in his drawer, it's reflection a haunting reminder of the monster he was.

He stood guard once again that day, another boring post in on the many hallways of the Keep. Another day of nothing to stare at but a window, and this window didn't even point towards the sea, but instead just showed another face of the castle. A short distance separated the two walls, perhaps no more than fifteen feet, but the drop down between the walls was immense as he was standing in one of the taller towers of the castle. He had no one to talk to, but then again, he never had anyone to talk to, just people to bark orders at him. It didn't look the little prince would be up to any interesting schemes today, instead he hid away in his chambers, the petulant whining brat was probably pouting over some harsh words that were spoken by his mother or father.

But, it was on this day that the redheaded stranger decided to grace Sandor with her presence.

A loud commotion could be heard coming from a different part of the castle. Sandor thought about going to investigate, peering down the tunneled hall that connected this tower to the next, but decided against it, he chose to remain at his post. His eyes shifted again to look out the window, but the scene was slightly different this time. He looked out the window in shock to see that his red haired stranger was outside the neighboring tower. She was hundreds of feet up in the air, scaling the wall to escape out a window. How she was managing to sidestep on the thin brick ledge that led around the castle, all while wearing an intricate gown, Sandor had no idea.

"What the-"he began in a quiet voice, but his curse was cut off as a young man came running down the tunnel.

"Hound!" the noble man shouted, coming to a stop in front of the guard, "My mother has just noticed that a couple of family valuable have been stolen, most notably a dragonglass arrowhead which she has quite an attachment to, we believe there might be a common thief in this part of the castle, as they just went missing. I don't suppose you've seen any suspicious persons from your post" The man might not have said anything cruel necessarily, but his eyes kept themselves to the Hound's feet, not daring to look up at his grisly face.

Sandor dared a glance back out the window to see the girl still at her perch, but now she had made eye contact with him. A finger slowly went up to her lips, urging him to be quiet about her whereabouts.

"No m 'lord, haven't seen a damn thing" he easily lied, taking his eyes off the girl. The man continued down the hallway, not daring another glance or word at the beastly man. When Sandor went to look out his window again the girl was gone. Part of him wanted to check out the window to make sure she hadn't fallen to the ground below. The other part told him that his shouldn't give a rat's arse what happened to the girl.

Later that night, at a small feast the King was holding for his guests, Sandor got the chance to see her again. He was posted against a wall, surveying the small crowd before him. A group of girls passed by him, giggling to themselves as young naïve girls often do. He had no time for their foolishness and their annoying chirps. Trailing behind this girls was the redhead, as she passed by, she looked up at him and smiled kindly, her eyes looked mischievous as she mouthed a quick 'Thank you', followed by a small salute. He caught him smirking back at her, but quickly forced his face back into its usual foreboding frown.

Sandor returned to his room at the end of his shift, a wineskin in his hand as he was intent on drinking himself into an oblivion like his usual routine. He reached into his pouch that sat atop his hip, pulling out its contents to empty it. His hand grabbed onto something sharp, cutting slightly into his skin. He pulled the object out in surprise, looking at it with his usual frown. In his outstretched palm lay an arrowhead, its point still sharp. It was shining up at him, glinting in the light of the candle in his room, blue and smooth. Sandor had never actually seen dragonglass in person, but knew that this must have been it.

How did she get the arrow into his pouch without him noticing? Who was she, and why was she intent on stealing every small treasure from this castle? And why the hell would she be giving these gifts to the likes of him?

* * *

The two had formed an unlikely friendship, if you could use that word, friends seems to strong, but no other seems to describe their relationship quite right. Sandor kept up his lies whenever it was to save her from getting caught up in one of many schemes. In return he was given a gift every few weeks- buttons, thimbles, stray gems that have fallen from their cavity, trinkets taken away from the petty noble ladies that were housed as guests in the Keep. They were always discreetly tucked into his pockets or satchel as she walked by, he never noticed her reverse pickpocket him. On a couple of occasions he hadn't even seen her walk by, but there it was that night, a trinket of some sort at the bottom of his pocket. He didn't know why he kept these things, a small pile forming in his nightstand drawer. Most of it was garbage anyways, nothing that could be sold for a few coppers. She didn't take them for their value though, at least he assumed as much. He took her as different than the other girls, she was wild and free spirited. She didn't walk like a proper lady should, instead she was either bouncing along, her arms swinging wildly, or sneaking about in the shadows.

If he was lucky she would stop and talk to him as she passed by, but only if they were alone, away from the royal family's eyes. It was one of these days that he finally got the answer to his many questions about the girl.

"What is your name Not-A-Ser?" she asked, as she passed by. Sandor scanned her up and down. She would never be considered a great beauty, her red hair was wild and curly, often unravelling from the intricate styles that were popular in this part of Westeros. Her pale face spackled with dark freckles, as was her neck. She wasn't slender like most of the girls, nor was she tall or willowy. She was short, and while she wasn't chubby, her hips were wider, and her breasts were large. What? You didn't really expect Sandor not to notice this about her? She may have been nicer to him than anyone had ever been, but he was just a man, and that happened to be one of his favorite pars to admire on her.

"Sandor Clegane," he replied, his deep voice rasping. He didn't ask her what hers was, despite his craving to know. Instead he showed no sign of interest in her, as most of their conversations went. One sided.

"Sandor," she repeated slowly, trying the new name out "Well, my name is Mellina. Of house Forrester. But don't call me lady or any of that crap, just Mellina."

"I'll call you what a please, girl" he sneered down at her. She simply shrugged at him.

"I suppose it's all the same anyways." She opened her mouth to continue, but the sound of footsteps were approaching. She sent him her usual salute, and skipped off away from the approaching noise. Sandor was left behind, he should have been annoyed at her presence, pestering him, talking as much as she did, asking him questions about what he was doing, or where he was going, but he wasn't. She was amusing, always leaving a fuss of ladies in her wake complaining about a mess or stolen items, but she was never caught. Most of the ladies assumed it was some young boys causing troubles. If there was one thing Sandor found hilarious, it was noble ladies running about, huffing and red faced in anger.

The approaching footsteps rounded the corner, one of the gold cloaks looked at Sandor warily.

"We leave for Winterfell in the morning, the Queen has asked me to inform you that you are not to leave prince Joffrey's side during the trip."


	2. Chapter 2

It had been over a year since Sandor met Mellina. His pile of gifts grew larger, something new every two weeks or so. His favorite was the dragonglass arrowhead, a token he secretly kept in his pouch almost every day. She had continued with her pranks and minor thievery, but times were different now, and people had begun to grow suspicious of her. There had never been much proof, and no one would publicly declare her a thief, but people were distrustful of the queer girl. She was perfectly polite to people, but wasn't cut out to be a proper lady. She spoke too quickly, and too often, walked with a skip in her step, and didn't make many friends around the Keep.

Sandor was standing guard once again in a lonely hallway, protecting the new King Joffrey who was sitting inside. An old nobleman's wife had just walked by, her face red in anger, huffing as she walked. A few minutes behind her followed Mellina, a grin spread across her face from ear to ear.

"You best be careful little girl, or you'll get caught. You'll lose your fucking hands." He warned, his voice growling. He watched as she perched herself in a windowsill, swinging her legs in such a way that it appeared she would fall backwards, down to the ground below her.

"Worried about me now, Sandor?" she teased, her curls were even longer now, reaching far down her back, loose, as she chose to refuse the elaborate styles that the fashionable ladies chose to wear. "Besides, they have more reason to take my head than stealing." She frowned slightly at this, and swung her legs slightly less. "I suppose you heard that my family have been branded as traitors? I had to apologize, in front of the King along with Stark."

He had heard of this, as many had. The Forresters were banner men of the Starks of Winterfell, and now were fighting for the King of the North, Robb Stark. Just a week before she was called to the court to renounce her family, along with Sansa Stark.

"I suppose I was lucky, though. Sansa is Joffrey's favorite plaything, not me." She said, in a hushed tone.

"Why are you here? No other Forresters have been here with you, why didn't you leave to go back to your family?" Sandor realized he never knew the answer to this, and surprised himself by asking her a question. He usually let her do the talking. She smirked back at him.

"Think I'll give away all my secrets that easily? Then I wouldn't remain a woman of mystery! No, all I'll tell you is that I was sent to King's Landing back when I was 14 years old. I was to wed Kevan Lannister, his third wife at the time, a peace offering meant to tie my family closer to the royal throne. But, when I arrived in King's Landing, five years later, he had already remarried. So here I stay, holed up in this castle until the Lannisters decide what to do with the troublesome Mellina." She smiled mischievously up at her friend.

"Why in the seven hells did it take you five years to get here?" he was confused by her story, it only took a few months to make the trip from the North, shorter if you don't have a large procession of people travelling with you.

"Ah, but that is for me to know, and a story for you to earn." She hopped off of her spot in the windowsill. "Goodbye Sandor, I suppose I better go before someone starts questioning my disappearance." She sent him her signature salute, and began walking away from him.

Sandor watched her go until she turned the corner and was out of his sight. He enjoyed her presence if only for the fact that she was the only person in the city who called him by his name. She had yet to call him 'Hound' or 'dog', instead she treated him with kindness, as if his forbidding face and reputation did not exist.

* * *

Mellina sat under a tent in one of the Keep's many courtyards, a large party formed around her to celebrate Joffrey's name day. She sat next to Sansa, the two had formed an unlikely pairing since Ned Stark's demise, although it only made sense considering their similar circumstances. They were both northerners, not complete accepted here in the south. They were daughters of traitorous families, held hostage in the Keep until their existence would prove useful. They were both playthings. Sansa belonged to Joffrey, but Mellina belonged to Cersei this past year. At least three times a week she was called to have breakfast or tea with the Queen, only to spend two or so hours being threatened and berated.

Mellina watched in the warm summer heat as Sandor Clegane fought a knight for the amusement of the royal highness. She watched as he knocked away the man's shield, the followed it by pushing him off of the tall wall which they stood upon. It was the first time Mellina had seen Sandor kill someone, although she knew very well about his dangerous reputation.

"Well struck, dog!" Joffrey cried out to his bodyguard. "Did you like that?" he asked Sansa expectantly.

"It was well struck, Your Grace" she muttered back, no emotion in her voice. Mellina was worried for her new friend, whose eyes were bloodshot and shadowed from nights of crying. Despite this worry, she found herself distracted from the King's prattling, shifting her attention back to Clegane, who was wiping blood off of his large sword. She wasn't afraid of him for what he had done, but would never trust the killer fully. Not that she would every trust anyone. Her attention was only brought back by the entrance of a fat knight, whose ruddy cheeks and stumbling gave away the fact that he was drunk.

"Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my name day. See that he drinks his fill!" Mellina watched as the man was pulled into the courtyard by two of the kingsgaurd, a funnel shoved into Ser Dontos's mouth. The barrel of wine brought my Ser Meryn was tipped upwards, drowning the poor drunkard. Mellina was disgusted by the mindless killing that happened for the King's entertainment.

 _Its one thing to kill a man yourself, but it's a damn shame to have other men do it for you while you laugh._ She seethed quietly in her chair, but made no move to help the stranger. The last thing she was going to do was put herself in danger or some man she had never met. She was surprised to see Sansa next to her jump forward in her seat.

"You can't!" Sansa cried out, only to be met with a deadly glare from Joffrey.

"What did you say? Did you say I can't?"

"I only meant… it would be bad luck to kill a man on your name day."

"What kind of stupid peasant's superstition…"

"The girl is right," said a rasping voice from behind the king. Mellina sighed in relief as the Hound piped up, saving the poor Stark girl, "What a man sows on his name day, he reaps all year." Mellina looked to the man, smiling discreetly at him, thankful for his rescue. The last thing she needed was more bloodshed in front of her that day, and the blood of one of her few friends in the god forsaken city.

They were then joined by the famous Imp, Tyrion Lannister, who greeted his own family, before turning to Sansa Stark.

"My Lady, I'm sorry for your loss." He told her, in what seemed to be a very sincere voice. He even went so far as to throw a sympathetic look at Mellina.

"My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors, too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey" replied the Stark girl. Mellina was impressed. Sansa had come to this city dreaming of fairytales, heroic princes saving damsels in distress. But she had been learning how to play the game quickly since the tragic death of her father.

"Dog, my Lady appears to be tired," the King ordered, desperate for the attention to leave his uncle, "Escort her to her room." The King was told to stop physically harming the Stark girl, so instead he settled for controlling every small detail of her life. The Hound reached a hand down to help the lady to her feet.

"Let's go little bird, back to your cage" he said to her softly. Mellina couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy rip through her at the sight of this small act of kindness. He rarely spoke softly to Mellina, and usually referred to her as a little girl, not some sweet endearment. She forced herself to look forward, towards the two knights who were battling in front of them, pretending not to care as Sansa was escorted away.

"Lady Forrester, what do you think of my knights?" the King beckoned to her, demanding attention. "Aren't they quite fearsome?"

"Yes, My Grace, I'm sure they will strike fear in the hearts of your enemies" she responded coolly, her eyes not leaving the duel.

"Yes I suppose they are good fighters, however these little duels aren't nearly as bloody as my traitor uncles will be when I'm through with them"

 _He boasts far too much for a child who has never been in a fair sword fight._

"Yes, I'm sure those fights will be quite bloody indeed" she responded darkly. The King looked upon her, aware that a vague threat had been thrown his way.

"I suppose we could marry you to whatever one of my soldiers fights best" he sneered at her, "maybe my dog can take you as his bitch. Any of my men are so loyal, I'm sure they'd be more than willing to share you with me." Mellina looked down at her hands, balled into fists, her knuckles turning white.

"No," the King said softly, looking away from her, "You're much too old for me now. Can't imagine a girl your age would tempt most men. Some poor soldier will be stuck with you though, my family doesn't need some cunt burden resting on their shoulders. God knows you'll be no fun to play with."

* * *

Mellina was walking back to her room that night, in her hand were two sweet rolls she had pilfered from the kitchens. She was addicted to sweets, and found herself stealing some each night to satisfy her cravings. Although she wasn't sure if she was stealing them discreetly, the evidence shown on her wide hips, and round buttocks. She thought she was alone in the dark hallway, until a looming figure appeared from the shadows.

"Was that the first time you've seen me kill, little flower?" she recognized the deep raspy voice, thick with the smell of ale. Her stomach somersaulted in his presence.

"Yes Sandor it was, your reputation precedes you however. Now, though I have my own proof that you are just as good of a killer as they say you are."

"Why aren't you afraid of me you little bitch?"

"Sandor, you're drunk, you should go to bed." Mellina frowned, he rarely insulted her, but didn't care much since he was in an alcohol induced stupor.

"The other little ladies are all afraid of me, they know I'm a killer." He growled darkly, he went to tower over her, but stumbled slightly in his drunken state. The girl surveyed him, tilting her head to the side, pondering his vague threat. She sighed, stepping closer to him, looking up at him she whispered,

"Oh Sandor, do you really think you're the only killer in this city?" she could see the look of confusion in his eyes from the light of the moon that poured in through the windows. "Goodnight Sandor." She sidestepped him, and continued down the hallway to her chambers, leaving the man staring at her in bewilderment.


	3. Chapter 3

"You are here to answer for your brother's latest treasons." The King commanded, his voice booming around his newly renovated throne room. Sansa Stark kneeled on the ground before him, the court's conversations coming to a standstill, enraptured by the afternoon's entertainment.

"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part, you know that!" Sansa begged, the fear in her voice only making the King smirk. Mellina was pressed against the back wall, furthest away from King Joffrey. Mellina didn't intervene in the royal family's harsh tricks they played, knowing too well they wouldn't stop, but rather, turn on her.

"Meryn!" Mellina winced as she heard Sansa cry out in pain as Meryn Trent yanked at her arm. She left her spot on the wall, moving quickly towards the front of the court to witness the cruelties that were taking place. "Leave her face, I like her pretty" The cry that came of Stark's mouth was a strangled sob as Ser Meryn punched her in the stomach.

"Stop it!" cried a voice, Mellina looked surprised to find it was her own. She didn't understand why she was bothering to stand up for Sansa, perhaps it was pity. She had to witness that girl's crushed face too often as her fantasies came crumbling down, and her family members were murdered and slandered before her.

"Ah Lady Forrester, how kind of you to join us!" Meryn Trent grabbed onto the front of her dress, pulling her into the center of the room along with Sansa, the force tearing slightly at the dress. "Your traitor family was also there, fighting against my grandfather's army. Your face, however, I don't care for" Mellina heard the sound of her face being slapped before she even saw Trent lunge at her face, and before she felt the sting on her cheek. The force was great enough to whip her head to the side, but she remained standing, refusing to fall. "How sad Lady Forrester, Sansa is here and her whole family starts a war to get her back. But your family never even tried to return you home, they'd rather fight for the Stark girl. I suppose they knew what a burden a spinster like you would be" a punch was thrown into her stomach, causing her to stumble a few steps as she cried out in pain.

"Ser Meryn? My lady is overdressed. Unburden her" Sansa's dress was ripped in half down the back, practically exposing her to the royal court.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted a voice from the back of the room. Mellina instinctively went to Sansa's side, trying to cover the young girl with her own body, as Tyrion Lannister walked towards them. "Someone get the girl something to cover herself with." He shouted at the crowd. Mellina looked up as she heard footsteps approaching the two girls, the Hound came to them, ripping off his own cloak, and draped it over Sansa's shoulders.

Mellina felt a pang of anger, she understood that there was little Sandor could have done to stop it, and knew that if anyone else was being tortured she likely wouldn't have intervened herself. But Sandor was supposed to be tougher and stronger than that. She shook these feelings away, knowing full well that Clegane had to play his part, just as she played hers.

Tyrion came to the two girls, but, ignoring Mellina, turned to Sanso only and said "Tell me the truth, do you want an end to this engagement?"

"I am loyal to King Joffrey, my one true love" Sansa's voice softly replied. She didn't have much choice otherwise.

"Hound, see these two girls back to their chambers" The Imp commanded, ignoring the King's protests. Sandor bent down and picked up Lady Stark in his arms, nodding at Mellina for her to follow him.

* * *

They walked down the halls in silence, the only sounds were their footsteps and the small cries from Sansa. Mellina found herself looking up at Sandor, trying to make some kind of eye contact with him, but he refused to look anywhere but straight ahead.

"Wait here," he told her as they came to a stop outside Sansa's chambers. She stayed outside the door as Sandor carried Stark inside, setting her down on her bed. She could hear him quietly murmuring to the girl, but couldn't make out what he said.

"Let's go," he said gruffly, placing a hand on her back to move her forward. When they neared her own chambers he finally looked down at the girl. "You alright little girl?" he growled at her. Mellina nodded her headed, not meeting his eyes. He opened the door to her chambers for her, ushering her inside. She was curious to see him let himself inside, and close the door behind him. "Go sit girl" he motioned towards a chair in her room. Mellina did as she was told, keeping her eyes on the man as he went to her vanity, pulled at a piece of cloth, and dipped it in her water basin. He walked over and crouched before her. "You're bleeding" he said, his voice still low and gravelly, but this time it was softer.

He pressed the cloth towards her cheek, wiping at the blood that trickled from her mouth. She recoiled in pain, hissing at the sting the pressure had caused. The Hound, not knowing how to have a gentle touch, grabbed her jaw, pressing the cloth once again to her face.

"I've never seen you look so sad little girl" he said, looking into her eyes. "Cheer up a bit, you should've seen how angry that Trent cunt was when he hit you, didn't like how well you take a punch." Mellina's face betrayed her as she smiled with pride at his joke.

Sandor stood back up and laid the cloth on the table. Mellina expected him to leave, but instead he took a seat in the chair next to her.

"So, little girl. Do you want to explain to me how a tiny thing like you learned how to take punches and scale walls?"

Mellina felt her bitterness and sadness fall away in front of the man she considered a friend. It was rare that he tried to make conversation with her, and not the other way around. In fact, she couldn't recall a single time that he asked her a question.

"Why, whatever do you mean Sandor? Don't all the other ladies act this way?" she asked him sweetly, feigning innocence.

"Piss off with that act. No, none of the other fucking ladies do that. And I don't think any of the other pretty little noble girls would hint at being a murderer to a drunken killer in the middle of the night" He rasped, referring to their hallway run-in a few nights before.

"Oh so you think I'm pretty?" she mocked, dodging the question. Sandor didn't answer her, but instead shot her a glare. "You don't remember when I finally arrived here?"

"I don't like to stick my nose in the affairs of these noble prats."

"It was quite the to-do. I was missing for five years, of course they presumed I was dead. How in the world could a girl survive out in the middle of Westeros for five years on her own? But, here I am!" She stood up from her chair, and walked over to her balcony. She rubbed at the sore spot on her side gingerly. She walked to the balcony railing, and hoister herself up to sit on it.

"Here you are. What happened to you out there?" Sandor followed her, standing in front of her. He was aware of how close she was to him, closer than he had ever stood.

"Well that's just not fair Sandor. I've been asking you questions about your life for over a year now, and all I get is grumbling. You expect me to just share all my secrets with you?"

"Aye, well you ask dumb fucking questions. Now tell me." He put a hand on either side of her, resting on the railing, leaning in threateningly. Mellina shot him a look that told him his tough act wouldn't fool her, but still she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I already told you I was sent to King's Landing when I was fourteen. I was a wild child, often refusing to put on dresses, or attend lessons that were meant to make me a proper lady. Never wanted to marry, but when you're the only girl of a noble family, you're often used as a bargaining chip. On our way to King's Landing there was an accident, most of my entourage died. So I ran, I knew it was my only hope to flee from the future I didn't want. I lived by myself for five years before a travelling band of knights found me, and recognized. They brought me before the late King Robert. And here I stay, locked away in a tower."

"How the hell did a little lady like you manage to keep herself alive that entire time?" he questioned, not really believing her story.

"My entire life in the Arbor was spent running away from my lessons and fighting my brothers. I learned enough to keep myself alive. Now, that's enough about me. What about you, Sandor?" she leaned in closer to him, her eyes running across his face, half mangled. "Tell me some of your secrets." Her face was only inches away from his as she whispered this last part, her eyes impish as she smirked.

"Little flowers dangling from balconies really shouldn't be so bold." He threatened back, his voice a low growl. He was painfully aware of how close they were, desire flooded him, but he wasn't sure if it was to press her body closer to his, or to wrap his hands around her pretty neck and push. She hopped down gently from her perch, her body slid along his as she did so. She looked up at him boldly, unafraid, and gently placed a hand on the distorted side of his face, the first time she had ever touched his skin.

"You're absolutely no fun Sandor," she whispered. She reached up on her tip toes, and placed a gentle kiss on his jawline. She then swept past him, underneath his outstretched arm. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find something from the kitchens to eat." And with that, she left the room, leaving Sandor by himself, with only the ghost trace of her hand and lips on his face.

* * *

Mellina found herself under a tent in the courtyard. The sun beat down on them, and even in the shade, the contents of the tent were broiling in the summer heat. She was sat at a table, breakfast with the Queen, which would normally be an enormous honor, but she knew the Queen too well for that belief. The two of them ate in silence, a party of servants and cupbearers surrounding them.

"I suppose it's time that I told you why I requested you to come to breakfast" the Queen said, delicately placing her teacup in its saucer. "Two years now you've stayed here, all at the expense of my family's hospitality. We've decided that it's about time that you left our charge and marry."

Mellina stayed silent, staring down at her uneaten food. She knew this day would eventually come, but secretly she hoped the family would just forget about her, send her away, or just let her leave on her own.

"I expected a more grateful response," Cersei said, raising one eyebrow high as she studied the young girl. "I've been kind enough to arrange a suitable marriage for you, sparing you from becoming some old maid. Not only that, but I've found you quite the husband." Mellina raised her eyes to stare at the queen's smug face.

"May I ask who I am to marry?" cooed Mellina, the sticky sweetness of her voice was fake, concealing her disgust for the woman sitting in front of her. The queen narrowed her eyes, aware of the bitter tone that was being used on her.

"You best watch yourself little one. Your future husband won't take too kindly to your attitude. Yes, you'll be marrying one of the best men in the Kingsgaurd, Ser Boros Blount." Mellina's heart stopped for a second as she held her breath. "You will be his third wife now, his second just reached a very tragic death. The foolish girl was accidentally attacked by Blount's dogs." This was a lie of course. Everyone in the Red Keep knew that the dogs were set on the poor wretched girl. Blount's first wife 'mysteriously' fell out of her own bedroom window. Neither wife had lasted for over a year. Ser Boros was one of the most ruthless killers in the Kingsgaurd. Mellina could feel bile raising up her throat.

"Your Majesty, if I may-"

"No you may not." Cersei cut off. "I've had enough of you foolish little pranks and your sarcastic demeanor. Every breath you take in my presence makes me want to get rid of you more. You are a weak little girl, thrust upon others to take care of you, and I will have no more of it. You _will_ marry Ser Boros Blount, you _will_ bear his children, and maybe you will survive. To be quite frank I don't give a shit what happens to you. Now go little fool, you have a wedding to plan."

* * *

Thank you guys so much for reading! Please, please, please leave a review! Things are going to get more adventurous soon, I promise!


	4. Chapter 4

Mellina Forrester hated balls. She hated the large and elaborate gowns her handmaiden put her into, all of which were generous gifts from the Queen. She hated the simpering of the young ladies who complained when men wouldn't ask them to dance, or complained that the right men hadn't asked them to dance. What she hated most of all was how crowded the large ballroom became, full of tiny groups, all divided, staring at one another, talking about one another, judging one another. Mellina never found herself a part of these groups, being a social outcast. When she first arrived it was because she was seen as a wild girl, no better than those who lived north of the wall. Now, because of her traitor family, people had new reasons to avoid her.

At this particular ball, a type of going-away party for Myrcella who was to travel to Dorne, Mellina found herself leaning against a wall, within the shadows, almost impossible to see. She stared at the Queen's face, a mixture of smug disdain and a look that suggested that at any moment she would burst into tears. Mellina found herself happy at the Queen's sadness, but also knew that this would most likely just make her crueler until Mellina wedded and left the Keep. There was nothing in this world that Cersei cared for more than her children, and for that, Mellina found a grotesque type of respect for the woman. A dark shadowed figure walked towards her, but stopped about five feet away, his metal armor clanking as he leaned against the same wall.

"Don't you like to dance, little girl?" the deep voice rasped.

"I love dancing, just not with these pretentious fools," she sighed. They did not look at each other, standing far enough away that the hordes of people wouldn't suspect their unlikely acquaintance. The man laughed at this phrase.

"What in the world makes you think you're different from the rest of these fuckin fools?"

"Do you think I'm like them Sandor?"

Clegane thought about this question carefully, noticing the sincerity in her voice.

"No little flower, I don't think you're like these fools. You're your own type of fool." She smiled at his joke.

"You're drunk."

"I'm always fucking drunk."

"Yes, but you only call me 'little flower' when you're so drunk you can't think straight." She waited for him to respond, but he remained silent. "Have you looked in your pocket lately?"

"Aye, I found some girly ribbon."

"Hm, how odd…" Mellina pretended to ponder, "I think I recall Lady Lefford complaining about losing her ribbon. She seemed practically in tears when she realized she wouldn't be able to wear it to this ball."

"What did that cunt ever do to you?"

"I'll have you know that while Lady Lefford is a little beauty, she's quite the nasty thing. She called me a wild beast, and threatened to cut off my hair."

"For fucks sake woman, your idea of revenge is so small. I've killed people for less."

"That's why people are afraid of you. Something tells me no one would be afraid of little me, they'd just have me killed for threatening her."

"I thought people were afraid of me cause of my fuckin face, I'm a fucking dog to them." He took a swig from the skin in his hand, his voice angry and bitter.

"Sandor, they're afraid of you because you kill people, and because you're an angry crude brute. People don't care nearly as much about your face as you do."

"You're a right fucking cunt, you know that? A real pain in the arse."

"Well don't worry Sandor, soon you won't have to put up with me or lie for me." He said nothing in response to this, but turned his head to look at the girl.

She sighed deeply, "The Queen is having me married off."

"Well fuck, aren't you a lucky bitch. Have you been dreaming about your gowns and flowers, deciding which cunts you'll invite?"

"Fuck you Sandor, you don't have to be such an arse."

"Well I'm sure whichever fucking prick you're about to marry will be nicer to you than me." Sandor left his spot on the wall, stomping away from the girl, in search of more ale. Mellina stayed where she was, not wanting to join the groups of dancers.

"Mellina?" she heard a voice cry, but it was soft and mumbled, from her left. "Mellina, I've been trying to get your attention!" Mellina looked to where the voice was coming from, rubbing her left ear, which was almost completely deaf.

"Sansa! How are you dear?" she asked the girl politely. Sansa was dressed in an exquisite gown, her standards had to be higher since she was set to be the future queen. Her eyes were still sunken and red.

"I just want to go back to my chambers. Will you leave early with me and walk to the Guest Hall soon?" the young girl pleaded, desperate to leave the festivities.

"Yes, we can leave as soon as you like dear, but first let's see how many lemon cakes we can smuggle out in our sleeves." Mellina was happy to see that this had made the sad child giggle.

Mellina was walking down the dark corridor of the Guest Hall by herself. She had sat with Sansa in the girl's chambers for nearly an hour, talking and devouring the lemon cakes they had stolen from the feast. She was alone as the girls had retired to their chambers without asking the Queen for permission to leave, and hadn't been give chaperones. Normally the halls were quiet at this hour, the only noise would have been her footsteps reverberating down the walkway. But a small noise in the dark made Mellina pause, a clinking noise that came and disappeared. She instinctively turned to her left, towards where her deaf ear left her weak only to be met with a man's face inches from her own. She jumped backwards startled, but the man reached out, grabbing her wrists tightly.

"You dumb little bitch," the voice whispered, reeking of wine.

"S..Ser Blount? W.. are you doing here?" she desperately tried to pry her wrists from his grasp, but he only held on tighter.

"You stupid cunt, they announced our fucking betrothal and you weren't even fucking there. Do you know how much you've embarrassed me?" Mellina yelped in surprise as his hand shot up, wrapping his fingers around her throat. "We aren't even wed yet, and you're already an embarrassment." He began lifting her in the air, spitting on her face. Mellina began swinging her legs, desperate to hit the target. Before she had a chance to fight past her own skirts to kick him, he slammed her backwards into the brick wall behind her.

"I don't like being embarrassed," he growled. He punched Mellina, sending her to the ground. His hand grasped firmly at her red curls, pulling her up so he could look at her face. "I can't believe they're sticking me with some wild whore." He struck her again, on the other side of her face, hitting her next to her eye. He tossed the girl to the ground and stalked off down the hallway, stumbling slightly.

Mellina laid there, relishing the feel of the cool stone floor against her fresh wounds. She was afraid to move, afraid he would come back and finish if she dared to. She was also afraid to stay where she was. After a few moments resting in a pile on the ground, she slowly raised herself up to her feet.

Mellina sat at her vanity, she looked into the mirror at her new reflection. Dark bruises wrapped around her neck like jewelry, her left eye was a dark purple, and her right cheek was red and scratched. Her handmaiden had said nothing about these new markings, instead Charlotte stared at her own feet, refusing to acknowledge the wounds. The handmaiden did, however, return with a pale face powder, meant to help cover the marks.

There was a knock at her door.

"My Lady? Ser Sandor Clegane is asking to speak with you."

"Yes, all right, send him in. And leave us please Charlotte." Mellina felt the girl hesitate at leaving her with the Hound, but she scurried past him. Sandor entered the room, shutting the door behind him. Mellina didn't turn to look at him, embarrassed of her fresh bruises.

"The Queen has sent me to escort you to lunch with her." Sandor muttered, the agitation clear in his voice, "Perhaps she wants to help you with your little fucking wedding plans. What kind of fuckin flowers will you have?" He jeered. Mellina remained quiet, but winced at his harsh words.

"What? Too good to talk to the dog now that you're about to marry some fancy lord? Gods I can't wait for you to leave, I'm sick of your foolish little pranks. You can go off and bother some other poor fucker…"

"Oh shut up!" Mellina whirled around in her seat, revealing her face to Sandor, "Shut up you stupid, grumpy old man! Did you come here just to mock me?!" she screamed, her emotions boiling over.

Sandor was frozen, shocked at the dark bruises that covered her face, and the words she spoke to him. He couldn't think of what to say until she buried her face in her hands, her chest heaving as she began sputtering out tears. He walked over to her purposefully, bending to his knees in front of her. He gently lifted her face from her hands, examining the bruises.

"Who did this to you little flower? Who hurt you?" she tried to hold back her tears, resting her cheek in his hand. The pressure stung, but still she savored the affectionate attention she had never had before.

"My future husband," she told him softly, "Ser Boros Blount." He froze, staring at her in shock. Even he knew the rumors that surrounded the knight.

"You're marrying fucking Blount?"

"By orders of Queen Cersei," she spat, "Sandor….I won't live three months with that man. He's going to kill me."

"Why don't you leave little flower? Run away from here, back to your family?"

"You don't think I've tried? Three times now I've attempted to run, the guards are on watch now."

Sandor ran his gloved hand over her face, brushing stray pieces of hair behind her ear. He wished he wasn't wearing gloves so he could feel the smoothness of her skin.

"Sweet little flower. You won't have to marry him. I promise you that." Sandor took her hand in his, raising it to his lips. He stood quickly, regretting that decision, and made his way to leave the room.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, knowing deep down exactly what he was planning.

"I'll tell the Queen that you are too sick for lunch. She won't be happy, but you can hole up in your chambers until those bruises heal at least." He looked at her one last time, and saw fear in her eyes. A kind of fear she had never shown him before. But he knew she wasn't afraid of him. She was the only person who wasn't afraid of him. Sandor coughed slightly, changing his soft tone back to its normal growl, "But don't fucking expect me to keep saving your sorry arse, you can't just sic a dog on all of your problems." He left, slamming the door behind him.

Sandor sat in his room that night, cleaning blood off of his dagger.

 _You're going to get yourself in trouble you fool, all for what? Some noble lady who will ultimately look at you like the beast you are. You can't go off falling for pretty damsels, and pretend like you can save her and make her love you. She's nice to you now, but once you're done killing off her enemies, she'll be just like the rest of them. One day she'll find herself some fancy little lord who will give her land, and money. One day she'll look at you like the fucking beast you are._


End file.
